


Dirt

by vredesbyrd



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: AU, Alcohol, Cocaine, Drug Use, Drugs, Dubious Consent, Gang Rape, Genital Piercing, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Marijuana, Multi, Needles, Oral Sex, Pedophilia, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Sexual Abuse, Spanking, Teasing, Therapy, Tongue Piercings, Trans Character, Transphobia, Vaginal Sex, i suck at pickles accent, lordy help me, trans!pickles, will add more tags where can be applied
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-08 19:14:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7769797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vredesbyrd/pseuds/vredesbyrd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>some weird au w magnus/pickles and struggling nathan/pickles and big fat meanie magnus uhhm enjoy??</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Curious

**Author's Note:**

> yeah this is weird and nathan is some rich kid and also like 16 so bear with me idk whats happening most of the time. the next chapter will probably focus more on like filling the reader in on whats going on and whos who and as always dont shy away from pointing out grammar errors!!!

It was probably 3 AM when Magnus kicked Pickles out of his bar. Magnus had the 18 year old by the collar of his leather jacket, dragging him forcefully toward the door and pushing him out on to the sidewalk. Beer splat all over the ground from the bottle Pickles tried to keep upright as he was knocked on his back, an intoxicated mess. Younger people out late on the sidewalk kept walking, few stopping to just watch. No one wanted to intervene with the local disappointment, an alcoholic street punk. This happened often, where Pickles would get way too drunk and Magnus would get sick of him trying to pick fights with people and he would just kick him out of his bar and not even let him back in his _house._ The redhead was sick of sleeping in alleys or couch surfing with strangers in exchange for fetish-driven sex or anything else he could offer. Which was really nothing.

The bar doors slammed in front of him and Pickles struggled to sit up, his empty hand massaging his aching temple. People walked around him and around the puddle of bitter beer that he made. It was so embarrassing to be seen like this but Pickles just dealt with it with bitterness and hostility. “Fuck off!” He spat at eyes locked on him, “Go fuck yerselves!” Pickles hissed as he stumbled to his feet, gazes averting and moving on with their night. Everyone was used to it, mostly, everyone who went out around 3 AM.

Pickles struggled to get to a nearby bench where he collapsed and closed his eyes. He wondered briefly where he would sleep tonight, or if he would sleep at all. Bitter cold bit at his fingers, yet he felt warm inside from the alcohol. He couldn’t stay out here and freeze to death, so that left the other option of trading sex for a fucking couch to lay on, or sometimes even the floor. Anywhere that was out of the cold seemed good to Pickles though he dreaded the thorough scolding he would eventually receive from Magnus for ‘sleeping around’ and being a ‘slut.’ He blocked the thought out and finished off the last drops of his beer, smashing the bottle on the ground afterwards.

The redhead got up and sulked down the sidewalk, avoiding the harsh gaze of bystanders. He wandered until he reached the richer side of town, large houses and well taken care of lawns closed in usually with decorative fences. Pickles stopped at maybe the 5th one he saw and easily climbed over the fence, getting on his knees on the other side and leaning down to vomit beer and whatever else he had eaten before on the nicely trimmed and uniform lawn. The street punk groaned and stood up once again.

This was crazy, what he wanted to do. This house could have kids and happy parents inside, not druggies and pimps like the neighborhood he lived nearest to had. He wondered if they would even let him in, let alone give him room to sleep on their floor. His mind was too fogged to think further into this plan as he approached the front door, grabbing the handle with one hand to stabilize himself, the other ringing the doorbell a couple times in a row. Pickles listened to it, the sharp dings and high pitched tones followed late by someone fidgeting with the lock on the door. He took his hand off the handle and tried to stand up straight, the fancy door opening slowly, a tall man with shoulder length black hair and broad shoulders standing behind it. “Can I, uh, can I help you?” The man asked, his voice deep and rugged.

Pickles gulped and tried to smile nicely, like he hadn’t just barfed in this guy’s lawn. “I- I need s’mewhere t’ sleep, sir…” He slurred, looking up at the intimidating man with pleading eyes. “I don’t have anywhere t’ go,” Pickles purred, hinted seduction in his begging voice.

The taller male stared down at him for a while with harsh emerald eyes. “Who are you?” He asked quietly, opening the door a little wider, silently welcoming him in. Pickles got the hint and stepped inside slowly, being careful in his drunken state not to lose balance and fall.

“I’m Pickles, I live down… behind th’ bar, usually. Ol’ man kicked me out.” The redhead said, sighing softly with relief as the raven haired man closed the door. He chose his words for Magnus carefully, well aware of all the homophobes in his town. Him and Magnus were kind of a thing. “What’s yer name?” Pickles asked after a few moments of silence.

“Nathan.” The muscular man responded, leading Pickles up the expensive looking staircase and into what seemed to be a guest room.

The room was simple and neat, a nicely sized bed in the corner with a large tv at the end of it on a dresser. There was a big mirror and a small walk in closet by the bed. Pickles looked around like it was the best room he’d ever laid eyes on. Him and Magnus usually shared Magnus’s bed, though the older man took up a lot of space and didn’t like to be touched when he slept. Versus sleeping at strangers’ houses after nights of sex where he’d either be forced to cuddle with the person all night or be kicked out to a couch. His eagerness grew at the idea of sleeping alone in his very own bed tonight. A nice clean and comfortable bed was a rare privilege for Pickles. “Wow… it’s nice, d’ I get to sleep in here?” He mumbled and walked in a few feet to further inspect.

Nathan nodded and crossed his strong arms over his chest. “I’ll, uh, get you clean clothes.” He said awkwardly before vacating the area and retreating down the wide hallway to his own bedroom.

Within minutes Nathan was back with the smallest clothes of his that he could find, a simple t-shirt and basketball shorts, both of which would probably be too big for Pickles anyway, but he tried. The redhead was laying on the bed, staring unconsciously at his phone, scrolling through all the missed calls from Magnus that he received mostly while walking up to the rich parts, totally zoning out. Pickles looked over at the tall man in the doorway.

“Sorry they’re, uh, a little too big for you. It’s the smallest shit I could find. You might wanna take a quick shower too.” Nathan apologized in advance, holding the ball of clothes out to the street punk who accepted them thankfully.

“It’s cool, dood, they’ll do.” Pickles said simply as he put his phone down on the bed, his mind overcome with silent anxiety from those missed calls. “So, uhhh… do you want like, yer dick sucked ‘r s’methin’?” He asked with a sigh, looking at Nathan with the expression he used on everyone he came to for somewhere to sleep. Boredom.

Nathan gave him an incredulous look, almost like he’d been instantly outed as a gay man. “Uh-- _what?_ Fuck, uhm, no?” He growled like he’d been verbally attacked and Pickles shrunk back at the tone. “What the fuck?” Nathan hissed, lunging a little bit, his fists clenched.

Pickles looked around anxiously, fearfully. He had no clue about this guy, how he could be. “S-sorry, dood, it’s jus’ most people don’ let me stay unless I give them s’methin’ in return, y’know?” The redhead said quickly, holding his small hands up in defense. “Ah, as ya can see, I don’ really have anythin’ else t’ offer…” He added, backing away slowly until his back hit the wall.

The raven haired man seem to cool down and look elsewhere. “Sorry, man, that’s rough…” He mumbled, grunting a little bit. “Once you’re uh, y’know, dressed and whatever I’ll get you something to eat, I guess.” Nathan said, half embarrassed. “The bathroom is across the hall and uh I’ll be down stairs…” He sort of trailed off as he hastily left the room. Nathan felt kind of bad, feeling that that must’ve been a sensitive topic. He wondered about having to live a life like that and what someone like Pickles would consider luxuries whereas what Nathan considers every day things. Like a clean bed to himself.

The redhead got off the bed and stumbled slowly to the bathroom with the clean clothes Nathan had provided, locking the door and starting to shed his dirty clothes on the ground, tossing his leather jacket and boots by the door and his stained shirt, torn pants, and everything else not far from them, being sure to hide his chest binder somewhere under the heap. Pickles got in the shower and did as he was told, washing all the product out of his short hair and the dirt off of his feminine body. He didn’t dwell too much on his body in general, the things he hated about it. The things Magnus hated about it.

Done showering, he picked the dark colored t-shirt up off the sink counter first, slipping it on before going for the basketball shorts. He struggled to get them on mostly because of how dizzy he felt, how numb his legs had grown to be. Taking his own clothes off had just been a fast blur of simply getting naked.

After getting the shorts on he sat down on the floor for a moment to catch his drunken breath. Pickles was generally surprised that this random rich guy just let him in within a couple sentences exchanged. Maybe it was the lateness of the hour that compelled this guy to avoid conflict and go with it. He stood up once again and looked in the mirror at himself in the comfortable shirt, the barely noticeable slope of his small breasts against the fabric. He was too drunk to care about what Nathan saw and what he didn’t, pretty much everyone in town already knew how his body was and besides, the shirt was dark and baggy enough to hide his chest from quick glances.

Pickles sighed and sulked out of the bathroom and down the stairs, eventually to where Nathan was in his kitchen, drinking something out of a can. Probably beer. He stood before the taller man, unsure of what to do.

Nathan turned and took in the sight of Pickles; his damp, flame red hair, his small body and the marks on it. What was most noticeable to Nathan now were light bruises on the street punk’s wrists and shoulders. He didn’t think about it too much. “I only know how to make uh, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.” The taller male said, rolling his eyes a little at himself.

The redhead shrugged, “It’s cool, I’ll find somethin’.” He said with a half drunk smile, walking slowly passed Nathan and rummaging through the fridge to find all the food he’s ever dreamed of. Pickles’ eyes were wide as he looked around the fridge, eventually just picking out a can of beer and some mixed fruit cup that he probably wouldn’t even end up eating. He then followed Nathan to the set of comfortable couches and chairs nearby, a large flatscreen in the center. Pickles sat down by the taller man and relaxed, sipping his beer slowly with the intention of savouring the luxury. He closed his eyes, leaning back and zoning out a little bit.

He stayed like that for a couple minutes until he finished off his beer, slowly cracking open his eyes to notice Nathan just staring at him, looking over his body with the most hungry expression. Pickles shifted uncomfortably, breaking the larger man out of his trance. “Ya alright, Nate?” He asked, unsure.

Nathan looked elsewhere, sighing with embarrassment. “Yeah… sorry.” He mumbled, “I just… I’ve heard about you, and I--”

“I get it, I get it, didn’t believe people? Wanted t’ get a closer look? It’s cool, dood. I don’ care.” Pickles cut him off, his gaze cast downward. He truly didn’t care much what people saw or what they thought or what they tell each other, he was almost dead convinced him and his struggle would remain a sick fetish for the bored druggies and curious rich. He felt Nathan move closer to him, their bodies inches away.

“Are… are you sure…?” Nathan whispered, his voice low and almost a bit suggestive. He placed his large hand on the redhead’s thigh, spreading them unconsciously.

Pickles nodded with little hesitation, spreading his thighs slightly and pushing his chest out a little bit as if offering himself. The redhead closed his eyes as he felt Nathan’s big hands on his body, feeling and groping. He knew he would want something.

The larger male’s left hand snaked between Pickles’ thighs, rubbing him cautiously through the material, not really expecting a dick but also not wanting to be disappointed. The street punk lifted his hips slightly against the fingers between his thighs, purring sensually. Nathan pushed the smaller male on his back on the couch, getting mostly on top of him, his shoulder length black hair hanging down over him. His hand slithered up Pickles’ shirt and groped his small breasts, grunting with satisfaction.

The redhead’s cheeks heated up and he moaned quietly, his hands suddenly coming up and pushing Nathan back a little. “Stop… I, uh, I shouldn’t,” He said, looking away with what seemed to be shame. It wasn’t even the dysphoria that constantly bit at him every time he was reminded, it was the inevitable disapproval and insults that would be thrown at him when he went back to Magnus. Pickles started to think that maybe he was just a trashy slut.

Nathan gave him a confused expression as he sat up. “Why?” He asked, mostly because he wasn’t used to not getting what he wanted.

“I… I have a boyfriend.” Pickles responded quietly, desperate not to meet those emerald eyes. He figured that being gay wasn’t gonna phase him much if being trans didn’t. The redhead fixed his shirt and stood up, just walking away from Nathan, thankfully feeling less dizzy.

He walked up the stairs to the guest room with Nathan following him close behind, still wanting to touch and explore the smaller man. Pickles sat on the bed and grabbed his phone, his heart dropping at the sight of threatening and degrading texts he received from Magnus. He grit his teeth as he read through all of them, totally ignoring whatever Nathan could’ve been saying to him.

“I have t’ make a call, Nate.” Pickles said, smiling reassuringly at Nathan. Meanwhile the rest of his body trembled in fear of what Magnus would say.


	2. 5 AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some background on pickles n magns relationship, mostly feelings n secks enjoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im dso bad at writng

Pickles navigated clumsily through his phone and contacts, finally initiating the call to Magnus and holding the phone to his ear. His hand trembled as it rang. After maybe a few silent moments Magnus answered and instantly started scolding him through the phone about running off and staying out late.

“You could’ve fucking told me you weren’t coming home tonight. I busted my fucking ass trying to get through to you and make sure you’re alright.  _ Are  _ you alright? Are you sleeping around more?” Magnus growled lowly through the phone. “You better fucking not be, Pickles, I’ll beat your ass to hell and back.” He hissed and the redhead winced at the thought.

Nathan now had a tight grip on Pickles wrist as he listened as best he could to the man on the phone. “Fuck, I- I’m sorry, I’ll come home tonight or-- can ya pick me up?” Pickles asked despite Nathan’s physical objections.

“You’re  _ sorry--? _ So you have been sleeping around?” The older man hissed, “I’m coming to get you right now, you fucking slut. You’re really gonna fucking get it when we get home. Send me the address.” And with that, Magnus hung up before anything else could be said.

Pickles set his phone down slowly. “Nate… I need the address to this pla--”

“No, that guy sounded bad.” Nathan cut him off, adding an almost embarrassed grunt, embarrassed to show the slightest bit of concern. 

The street punk stared at him for a few moments like he was insane for refusing. “It was a long walk up here, dood. I don’ wanna walk all that way back, so he needs th’ address.” He explained, glaring slightly. 

Nathan let go of his wrist and looked elsewhere. “Fine.” He said sternly before reciting the house’s address, Pickles typing down in his phone and sending it to Magnus who simply left him on read. 

The redhead set his phone on the nightstand and laid back on the bed, closing his eyes. He felt Nathan’s hands on him again, on his hips and thighs. “Nate…” 

The larger male leaned down and kissed Pickles’ neck, one of his hands feeling his chest briefly before lifting up his shirt. He just let it happen. Mostly because Magnus already thought he was a slut and would probably try to hurt him anyway. He tried to brush it off, focusing on the feeling of Nathan’s big hands all over him. He felt one of his hands between his thighs, rubbing him slowly. The redhead gasped and tensed a little bit, his breasts being squeezed and teased. 

“Ah, Nate… How old are ya?” Pickles purred, spreading his legs a little. Nathan couldn’t have been younger than 20, he thought.

“Uh,” Nathan considered lying, “I’m 16.” He muttered lowly, almost inaudibly. 

The smaller male sat up quickly. “Shit, dood, really?” He laughed, “I’m 18.” Pickles said, smiling with amusement. “Ya look older-- wait, this can’t possibly be yer house, then.” He said, narrowing his eyes a little.

The younger teen nodded, “Yeah, it’s my parents’ house. They’re out for a couple weeks. Barely here anyway.” He informed, rubbing the back of his neck almost nervously. “Some dude comes a couple times a week with groceries and house cleaning shit, tells me shit my parents want me to know. Y’know.” Nathan said, shifting to sit by Pickles against the headboard. “Uhm, so, since you, uh, won’t let me do anything… was that guy on the phone your, uhm, boyfriend?” He asked awkwardly, glancing at the 18 year old.

“Yeah-- Magnus. He’s more of an asshole than a boyfriend, though he gives me a place t’ stay an’ he owns a bar so free beer too.” Pickles said, chuckling a little bit afterwards. "He's like... 30 or some shit." He felt Nathan’s hand slide down his thigh, trying not to acknowledge it. 

“Why do you stay with him?” Nathan asked more as a distraction, sounding completely uninterested as he tried to touch the redhead all over. He slipped his arm behind Pickles and around his thin waist, feeling and groping until he found his soft ass.

The smaller man shifted uncomfortably, his face heating up. “Uh… I don’-- Nate… Ya should stop…” He mumbled quietly, looking up at Nathan with wide eyes. 

The raven haired man ignored him and continued to touch and feel as he pleased, shifting to get on top of Pickles, kissing his neck and collarbones. His strong hands kept the smaller man’s wrists pinned on either side as he kissed and bit the soft skin before him.

Pickles struggled a little bit, his heart racing. He knew Nathan could easily overpower him and take whatever he wanted. This was the price for wanting to stay the night, he figured. He moaned softly as the larger man got between his legs, thrusting and grinding against him. The redhead could feel his erection, big and hard against him, needy. He felt their lips connect in a blur of lust and passion, their bodies pressed against each other. Nathan had let go of his wrists, his left hand holding Pickles’ waist and the other getting under his shirt to grope his chest. The redhead purred in a daze, lifting his hips up against Nathan’s needy thrusts. 

The sharp ring of Pickles’ phone broke them out of their passionate moment. The street punk jumped at the sound, gently urging Nathan off of him as he grabbed his phone. It was Magnus calling him, as he expected. He swiped to answer and brought the phone to his ear with a quiet sigh.

“I’m out front, Pickles. I won’t wait more than two minutes.” Magnus said gently before instantly hanging up. Another thing Pickles couldn’t stand; Magnus’s inconsistent and frequently changing mood. 

He shoved his phone in his short’s pocket, looking at Nathan with a grim expression. “I’ll, uhm… I’ll get my clothes now, Nate.” Pickles said before standing up and going to leave.

The larger man stopped him, holding his hand to prevent him from leaving. “You’ll be back, right?” He asked almost shyly, his voice husky and quiet. 

Pickles didn’t turn to look at him, only nodding in response. He felt Nathan let go, at which point he continued to the bathroom to grab his boots and discarded clothes. After slipping his boots on, he made his way to the front doors, leaving Nathan lonely in the guest room. 

The early morning chills of 4 or 5 AM bit at his skin like insects on rotting food. It brought him little comfort as he walked to Magnus’s spiffy little car, silently taking his place in the passenger’s seat. Pickles closed the car door and turned around towards the eerily silent Magnus. The redhead knew better than to speak up and talk to him, maybe get him to acknowledge his presence. All the older man did was get out of park and drive down the street a little ways in order to turn around, barely even sparing his young boyfriend a glance. 

The entire ride home was like this, silent and tense. They both knew what was going to happen when they got home and Pickles tried to stay on his best behavior the whole way home and then some. He wondered why it was so easy for himself to get trapped in relationships like this. Magnus would hit him and abuse him all the time but when he cooled down and was nice and sweet and gentlemanly to Pickles, it just made his heart melt and it felt that much more difficult to think of breaking it off. Though, it really was hell when Magnus was mad at him. He’d disrespect Pickles and degrade him, taking advantage of his body and pretty much using him like a faulty product he’d paid a lot of money for, anger and disappointment both mixed together. Pickles felt so torn between staying with the loving and caring Magnus he had experienced at first, or abandoning the rude and abusive Magnus he experienced more often than not. 

After long, silent minutes, the car stopped and they walked into Magnus’s medium sized and neat home. It was a good house, even though Magnus was an addict on the side. He managed to keep it clean and not too trashy, like the houses around it. The taller man opened the door and led Pickles in, taking his shoes off and discarding them lazily elsewhere among the door. The redhead did the same, afterwards just standing before Magnus with his eyes closed, ready for whatever physical damage was to come. 

Instead, he felt the man’s warm, comforting arm wrap around his waist and guide him to the bedroom. His dirty clothes were taken from his hands and set aside before Magnus gently lifted Pickles onto the bed. He laid back, his mind running wild with confusion and his heart pounding with anticipation, whether it be good or bad. 

Magnus got on top of Pickles, his hands holding his hips and his lips against his neck. “Are these clothes his…?” He whispered, the tone gentle yet threatening. 

Pickles nodded slowly, his body trembling unintentionally, feeling Magnus’s grip on his hips tighten.

“Take them off.” The older man commanded, planting a warm kiss on his neck before sitting up to watch. His expression was like a vulture staring down from the sky at it’s next meal, ominous, hungry. 

The redhead did as he was told, slowly pulling off the big t-shirt to expose his small soft breasts, only then noticing that the material smelled vaguely of Nathan. He felt the heat spreading across his cheeks, practically feeling Magnus’s smooth chocolate eyes on his body. Pickles continued, laying back and tugging the basketball shorts off, crossing his pretty porcelain thighs shyly, despite all the times they've had sex.

Magnus sat back against the headboard of the bed, patting his lap briefly. Pickles received the hint and crawled over to lay across it on his stomach, knowing what would be next. The brown haired man adjusted his small partner slightly, making it so his ass was easy to access and vulnerable. His big, bony hand groped Pickles’ soft ass, squeezing it and grunting before slapping it hard. 

The redhead yelped and arched his back, his hands clenching the sheets as he felt two more sharp hits and the sting that followed. “You wanna act like a fuckin’ slut, I’m gonna treat you like one.” Magnus said, growling lowly. He slapped the younger male’s ass a couple more times before forcing his thighs apart and rubbing his slender fingers against his wet pussy. “Does that rich guy you were with make you wet?” Magnus said in a deep, blatantly dominant tone, giving Pickles ass another rough squeeze. “Does all his fuckin’ money make you horny?” He growled.

Pickles moaned shyly and grit his teeth in response. His body felt hot and needy. “Magnus… I- I need you…” He mumbled, glancing back at him. The larger male yanked Pickles up against his chest by his hair, his breath hot against his young lover’s neck.

“You need  _ me? _ Anyone off the fuckin’ street could make your trashy ass come.” Magnus growled against his neck, chuckling warmly. The hand that wasn’t tangled in Pickles’ flame red hair slithered around his body and between his thighs, rubbing roughly against his clit and making the younger man gasp and struggle. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard.” He said with a grunt, rubbing him harder. Pickles’ body jerked and he groaned helplessly. 

Magnus laid his young lover down on the bed on his stomach, lifting his ass and spreading his thighs wide for a good view. The brown haired male palmed his erection through his jeans before unzipping them and pulling his hard cock out. He was pretty big, but nothing Pickles couldn’t take. He rubbed the head against the redhead’s wet pussy, making him moan and beg to be fucked. Seeing just how well Magnus could make Pickles fall apart was so erotic, how with just a little bit of contact, or a couple whispered words, the young punk would be begging for him. 

“Please, dammit… please fuck me, Magnus…” Pickles whimpered, pushing against his hard cock. The larger male shivered with anticipation at the sound of being begged for. He slowly pushed in, groaning loudly. After all the times he spent fucking the younger man till he couldn’t take anymore, he was still so blissfully tight. Magnus thrust in further, hands holding his lover’s hips tightly, burying his cock deep inside.

The redhead moaned his name loud, reaching down between his own legs to rub his clit. Magnus continued to ram into him roughly, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting back in hard. Pickles squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth, his body trembling with pleasure as he was fucked. The brown haired man pulled out mostly, thrusting back in slowly, watching the way the his young little pussy stretched around his hard cock. 

He fucked Pickles roughly until he couldn’t take any more, climaxing deep inside with a load groan, holding his hips tightly. The redhead cursed loudly as he felt the warmth spread inside him, his body trembling on the edge of coming. Magnus pulled out agonizingly slowly, leaving Pickles laying on the bed, struggling to make it to his own climax without the extra stimulation. He turned over on his back, slowly pushing two fingers inside himself. It wasn’t nearly as amazing as having Magnus’s big cock filling him up, but it would have to do. The redhead fucked himself as hard as he could, rubbing his clit with the other hand. 

It was quite a show for Magnus, and he felt himself getting harder once again as he watched. He suddenly grabbed Pickles by the hair and dragged him closer, positioning the younger male’s head in front of his hardening cock. “Suck it, slut.” He said, still having a tight grip on his pretty red hair. The street punk parted his soft pink lips, looking up at Magnus like a slave looking at his master. The taller man grinned and lowered his pet’s head down on his cock, fucking his mouth slow and shallow for a few seconds before forcing his length in all the way. Pickles gagged, tearing up a little bit as he was choked. Magnus groaned, thrusting in and out of his mouth hard, a bulge in his lover’s throat every time he was in deep. It was so hot and wet, fucking his mouth until he came again, buried all the way in his throat. The brown haired man grunted and kept his cock in as long as he could before slowly pulling Pickles off by his hair, a string of cum and drool from his cock to those soft pink lips. 

Magnus leaned down and gently wiped the tears from Pickles’ eyes with his thumb, smiling warmly down at him like he didn’t just force him to choke on his dick. “You’re so good for me, sweetheart.” He whispered, his calloused thumb running over the redhead’s wet bottom lip. Pickles shivered at the warm and loving tone, the hand still pulling his hair loosening up to rub his head instead. The smaller male purred and closed his eyes before Magnus let go of him completely, wiping his dick off and tucking it back in his pants. “Clean yourself up.” He said, getting off the bed and leaving the room. 

Pickles wiped the cum and saliva off of his mouth and sighed, part of him still begging to finish himself off. He decided it was a lost cause before getting up and finding dark colored boxers to wear to bed, slipping them on and laying back down again. The redhead leaned over to click the lamp on the nightstand off and soon curled up in the blankets, breathing calmly now. He thought about Nathan and going to see him when he woke up. Maybe that would be too risky, but maybe worth it. Nathan didn’t disrespect him like everyone else. He was quiet and kept to himself and kinda sweet, which Pickles liked. He had a lot of money, too, which was pretty exciting considering most of the thing Pickles needed to live like food and beer and weed, he had to steal or sell himself for. He wondered if Nathan had ever tried weed or anything else besides beer. He wanted so bad to be high with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sry for bad ending and also imagine magnsus voice when he's not anger ugghg


	3. Slave part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i honestly feel terrible for writing this and hurting pickles like this is srsly makes my heart hurt so bad and idk how i got through this. I had to like,, force myself to post this chapter and the next. :// i think they turned out okay ig but i still feel bad.   
> so yeah this is pretty much like rape so fair warning guys enjoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whos magnus lol

Golden light cascaded through the windows, glowing softly in streaks on Pickles’ face from the blinds. The morning was cold and quiet, too early for most of the towns addicts to be up and doing stupid shit around town. His eyes cracked open slowly, pupils shrinking from all the bright light, his head pounding. The redhead sat up slowly and looked at the clock on the nightstand. 10 AM. God, it was too early to be waking up with a hangover, he thought, rubbing his head gingerly. He noticed almost instantly that Magnus wasn’t in bed with him and he just figured, as with the time, that he had gone to his bar or something along the lines of that. 

Pickles yawned and stretched his arms and then his legs as if he were testing how useful they were. The aching, sore feeling hit him suddenly from last night’s rough activities and he winced painfully, lifting up the blanket to make sure everything was alright, which it was. It was rare for Magnus to want to have gentle, lovey sex and because of that he always left Pickles a sore and aching mess in the morning, usually with hickeys and bruises all over his body but nothing new this time. Curiously, he inspected his own body and took into account how many healing bruises and hickeys he had from previous encounters: bruised wrists, dark red and soft pink marks along his collarbones and shoulders, some on his hips and inner thighs. Thinking about it now almost disgusted him with how rough Magnus liked to treat him during sex, and last night and the aftermath of it wasn’t even that bad in comparison. 

He sighed defeatedly and, wobbly and unstable, forced himself out of bed. The plan for today was steal some weed and get high as shit with Nathan, Pickles thought as he rummaged through the closet, picking out some sleeveless DIY Bad Religion shirt he made a while ago and ripped up and patched black jeans. He put his chest binder on and then the clothes he picked out, adding a spiked choker and a pair of black doc martens. The young punk walked to the bathroom and dug through the medicine cabinet, grabbing some obscure brand of eyeliner and applying it neatly to his eyes and teasing up his short red hair before vacating the bathroom. Pickles dug his phone out of the discarded shorts from last night and checked if he got any texts from Magnus hinting at where he was. Nothing.

The redhead grabbed a drawstring bag, shoving the clothes he got from Nathan and a bowl inside and tugging it shut. He walked out of the bedroom to find Magnus sitting peacefully in the kitchen with a cup of coffee, staring down at his phone. Pickles slyly went to the fridge and grabbed a beer, being careful not to stir up suspicion concerning what was in his bag. 

“I’m off today, Pickles.” Magnus said casually, not looking up at him. 

The redhead sipped his beer. “Why, though?” He asked, leaning against the counter.

Magnus looked up from his phone and rolled his eyes. “Because it’s my bar and I decide when I get off.” He said with a bit of sass, sipping his coffee.

“Well… I’m going out. I’ll be back later.” Pickles said cautiously, finishing off his beer and tossing the can in the garbage. 

“Where are you going? Out to make me some extra cash?” The taller man teased, referencing to prostitution. 

The redhead scoffed. “Fuck you, ol’ man.” He said, walking up behind Magnus, his hands fondly combing through his long chocolate locks. Pickles leaned down, wrapping his arms around the older man’s neck and kissing his cheek sweetly. 

Magnus ignored him. “Are you feeling alright today, sweetheart?” He asked softly, having much more patience this morning than he did yesterday.

Pickles shrugged and smiled to himself. “Sore… ya know.” He responded, his hands messing unconsciously with his boyfriend’s shirt and sometimes his beard.

“Really, though. Where are you going and with who?” Magnus inquired, leaning his head back to look up at Pickles.

“Uh… I don’ really know yet. Probably like, William or something.” The redhead replied carefully, hearing Magnus grunt with disapproval. He knew the older man didn’t like his friend, William Murderface, but it was better than saying Nathan and having to explain or make up something on the spot. 

The brown haired male closed his aging eyes. “Really? That kid? I don’t like you around him, Pickles. He gives off a bad vibe.” Magnus explained, slowly standing up and tugging Pickles close against his chest.

The shorter male looked up at his lover with an expression that was sure to convince. “It’s cool, dood. We’re just gonna hang out and like… smoke some dope or some shit.” 

Magnus shrugged and nodded slowly. “Don’t stay out late,” He said, more of as a warning with consequences rather than a caring statement. “And don’t let that kid lace you with anything.” The taller male added, bony fingers caressing Pickles’ cheek and jaw. 

Pickles nodded and smiled up at him warmly, leaning up on his toes to kiss Magnus softly, his small soft hands on the other man’s chest. Magnus made his whole body feel warm and flowery when he was like this, so sweet and tender towards him. “Don’ worry, man.” The redhead mumbled afterwards, walking towards the front door.

The bearded man took his seat at the table once again, just now noticing the drawstring bag on Pickles back as he walked out the door. He didn’t think much of it, sipping more of his coffee.

Pickles walked confidently down the sidewalk, successfully evading Magnus and his nosiness when it came to anything. He planned to steal some weed from William and maybe beat the shit out of him too. People outside their houses stared at him as he walked down the street, even though everyone in town was used to him by now. Within minutes he made it to William’s house, walking straight through the unlocked front door and up the shitty creaking stairs to his friend’s bedroom. 

“Murderface, bro,” The redhead called out before opening his door. “Give me some of yer weed, man.” Pickles said, more of a statement than a question. William was laying on his shitty little bed, already smoking a joint himself. 

“What the fuck Picklesh?” He lisped, grabbing his blanket and tossing over his half naked self. “I jusht fucking woke up!” 

“I want some weed, dood,” Pickles said, narrowing his eyes as he walked in. “Ya can’t smoke it all yerself.” He stated, laughing a bit.

William grunted, “What’s in it for me?” He said almost suggestively and Pickles scoffed.

“A fuckin’ beating, man, that’s whats in it fer ya.” The redhead threatened defensively. Even his so called friends treated him like a fucking fetish-- like a sexual object that they could experiment around with. Pickles yanked open William’s dresser drawer and grabbed the small bag of a couple grams. “I only need a little--”

He was cut off by William tackling him to the ground, pinning his wrists above him. The redhead gasped and struggled, thrashing underneath him violently among discarded clothing and other disgusting things that dwelled on William’s floor. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The larger male hissed, smacking the bag away from Pickles. “Thish shit washn’t cheap ya know!” 

Pickles grit his teeth and managed to loosen his wrists out from under William’s grip, shoving him off and onto the floor. “I’m only takin’ a little bit ya fuckin’ bastard. I’ll pay ya back.” The redhead promised, grabbing the bag off of the floor and taking a little less than half of what was inside, dumping it into another smaller baggy that he found nearby. Pickles shoved it in drawstring bag, glancing at the other male in the room who scowled back.

“You better fuckin pay me back, Picklesh.” William said with a warning growl and Pickles ignored him, walking out of the room and then out of the house.

He tried to retrace his steps, walking the short distance to Magnus’ bar and then thinking hard about the route he took the night before. With that in mind, he was off, making his way carefully down the streets and into the rich neighborhood. It looked so bland in the morning, everyone outside simultaneously mowing their lawns and trimming their hedges. Nathan’s house was the only house void of regular jack off activity. 

Pickles went to the door, trying not to laugh too hard about his vomit still being in the yard near the fence. He rang the doorbell without hesitation, smiling down at the ground for a couple moments. 

The door opened in a blur and a tall, long haired blond stood in the doorway. “Nathans… I think dis ams for yous.” The seemingly foreign teen said, smirking down at the redhead.

Nathan came to the door behind the blond and tried to hold back an un-brutal smile. “Pickles-- you came back.” He said, nudging his friend away and opening the door wider for Pickles to enter, which he did. “This is my friend, Skwisgaar. He lives across the street. He’s from Sweden, which is why he sounds retarded.” Nathan joked, earning a playful punch in the shoulder from said Swede.

Pickles rolled his eyes. “Nice t’ meet ya.” He said, nodding his head at Skwisgaar. “Nate, I brought yer clothes back.” The shorter man said as Nathan closed the door behind him. 

“Cool, uh-- Skwisgaar, stay down here while we put this shit away or whatever.” The raven haired man said awkwardly before guiding Pickles up the staircase and to his own bedroom.

The room was messy and unkept, crumbled paper littering the desk and around the garbage can, discarded clothing and beer cans covering spots on the floor. The walls were a relaxing blue color, matching the balled up sheets and pillows on the large bed. The lights were purposely muffled to make the room appear darker, shadows lurking everywhere. Nathan flicked the switch to the overhead light that he barely ever used, the room becoming significantly brighter.

Pickles slid the drawstring bag from his shoulders and dug through it, pulling out the shirt and the basketball shorts Nathan had given him the night before. “Here. Sorry I left so suddenly… Didn’t actually think tha bastard would come get me.” He said with a chuckle. “He kicked me outta the bar earlier yesterday, which is why I came down here.” Pickles explained, sitting down on the larger man’s bed. 

Nathan pretty much ignored him, getting on the bed beside him, gazing at him with half lidded eyes. He reached up and turned Pickles’ head so their eyes locked before leaning in and connecting their lips gently. The smaller male’s lips were so soft and sweet, addictive to Nathan. 

The readhead, as if instinctively, kissed back for a moment before pulling away a couple inches. “Nate… I really shouldn’t…” He whispered like it was top secret.

“But don’t you want to? That guy you’re with is a douchebag.” Nathan whispered back, his voice husky and seductive. 

Pickles shivered, hands grabbing at the sheets beneath him. Nathan sat back against the wall, his strong arms lifting the smaller man onto his lap. The redhead let him, his clothed thighs straddling Nathan. 

The raven haired man captured Pickles lips with his own, kissing him gently, his arms wrapping around the other’s waist. The young punk kissed him back, gasping a little when he felt Nathan’s hips buck against him. He knew what the teen wanted.

“Nate, we can’t…” Pickles whispered shyly after breaking the kiss. His lips tasted like beer and his breath smelled like it too. 

Nathan ignored him like he did almost every other time he talked, his left hand getting between the redhead’s legs and rubbing him through his jeans. 

The smaller male’s body tensed, his soft little hand pushing against Nathan’s significantly larger one between his legs, trying to get him away without coming off too forceful or somehow rude. Instead, the raven haired man shoved Pickles down on his back, getting on top of him, now holding his wrists above his head with one hand. 

Pickles’ eyes went wide and he struggled with fear under the larger male, breathing heavily. “Nate-- stop, please!” He begged instantly to no avail, feeling his big hand between his legs again, rubbing him roughly. 

As if on cue, the bedroom door swung open and Skwisgaar jumped on the bed behind Pickles, replacing Nathan’s hand, holding the redhead’s arms behind his back. It finally hit him: these bastard rich kids planned it. They planned to fuck him whether it be consensual or not. He felt a thick cloth wrapped around and tied at the back of his head, gagging him successfully. 

Hands were all over him, tearing his clothes off forcefully and leaving him helpless and vulnerable under the two men. Pickles felt Skwisgaar tie his hands together with material unknown behind his back, his head being pulled back by his hair for the blond to look at his face, contorted in pain, tears pricking his eyes.

Nathan at the other end held the redhead’s legs apart, rubbing his clothed erection against his sore pussy, grunting lowly. The larger man undid his pants and pulled out his thick cock, stroking himself generously. Pickles squeezed his eyes shut at the sight. He was definitely thicker than Magnus, of all things. 

Skwisgaar tossed Nathan a small bottle of lube that Pickles didn’t notice he even had. Nathan popped the cap and drizzled a generous amount on his fingers, then leaning down and rubbing them against the young punk’s pussy, pushing against his clit. He gasped and groaned against the cloth gag, struggling relentlessly. Nathan rubbed the excess on his girth, rubbing the head against the smaller male before him. 

The redhead let tears escape his pleading eyes as he felt Nathan thrust into him without warning, his already aching pussy being stretched painfully around the thick cock being forced inside him. The larger male above him groaned and squeezed his thigh, his other hand holding his hip to fuck him harder. He thrust in and out slowly at first, speeding up gradually as the hunger grew. He was so warm and tight inside, it was enough to make Nathan go crazy.

Meanwhile, Skwisgaar only watched, palming himself through his pants. Though Pickles didn’t know it, the deal was that Nathan gets to creampie him and do whatever else he wanted first before Skwisgaar even got to get touchy. Then it would be the Swede’s turn. They devised this sick, drunken plan all morning before Pickles arrived, driven mostly by Nathan’s dark desires, his need to dominate and Skwisgaar’s fetish and curiosity with boys with pussies. Just watching was enough for the blond to get off to.

To Pickles, though, the surface that he didn’t look into was that it was just a plain old plan to rape him then, hopefully, let him go. He didn’t - he couldn’t - think too much into it and debunk all the awkward dialogue between the two, though he felt he wanted to. His body jerked with every hard thrust, small breasts bouncing cutely every time. Pickles moaned and writhed under Nathan, suddenly feeling Skwisgaar’s hands on his chest, squeezing and teasing his soft breasts and pretty pink nipples. 

Nathan fucked him slowly now, his eyes locked on Pickles’ face and body, how helpless and submissive he looked, so little and cute beneath him. He wanted the redhead to treat him like a god, follow every order he spat, offer himself willingly whenever Nathan wanted him. The thoughts urged him closer to his edge and he sped up once again, fucking the smaller male deep and hard before he climaxed, spurting warmth - and lots of it - deep inside. 

Pickles cried out with pain and pleasure, his body trembling from the stimulation. He felt like he would burst, feeling filled up and on the edge of overflowing. Nathan pulled out slowly with a grunt, his semen leaking out of the redhead’s cute pussy and onto the sheets beneath him. The raven haired male leaned down and licked Pickles’ inner thigh before biting down hard on it, causing the smaller man beneath him to grit his teeth against the gag, his breath hitched.

The bed shook as his captors switched position, Skwisgaar’s pants already unbuttoned and his dick already out and ready. Nathan sat behind Pickles, lifting him so his back was against his muscular chest. He leaned down and kissed his neck sloppily, leaving hickeys and small marks in his wake. The larger man’s big hands slid down the redhead’s slender body, squeezing his ass before coming back up to do the same to his breasts. 

Skwisgaar on the other hand, was rubbing his cock against Pickles’ abused pussy, almost slipping in with every thrust. He soon pushed in, fast and hard, buried deep inside. The redhead moaned and cried against the cloth in his mouth, his body feeling used and now useless. His running tears stained the cloth as he felt Nathan’s teeth against his skin, biting and leaving pretty red marks. His muffled begs for remorse just made the scene hotter for his captors, their grunts and groans growing louder as they abused him. 

The thick cloth was suddenly removed from his mouth, only to be replaced by Nathan’s thick fingers intruding between his lips. Pickles thrashed around violently, biting down on the two fingers in his mouth. 

Nathan gasped and pulled them out, grabbing his flame red hair and slapping him hard with a low growl. “Don’t fucking bite me, bitch!” He hissed, shivering at the sight of fresh tears on Pickles’ sweet and freckled porcelain skin. 

Skwisgaar smirked as he heard the discourse, still ramming into their new slave, groaning. He had a firm hold on the redhead’s hips, hard enough to leave bruises. 

Pickles screamed curses, his face stinging painfully from Nathan’s rough discipline, feeling those fingers in his mouth again, pushing as deep as they would go. Nathan’s other hand was on his neck now, squeezing tightly, threatening to suffocate him. The redhead finally obeyed, sucking tenderly on the big fingers in his mouth, mostly to avoid being choked by those big strong hands. He got the feeling, not just because of the events taking place now, that Nathan couldn’t easily control himself, and in reality could easily kill Pickles. Shivers ran throughout his body at that frantic thought and he tried to calm down, suddenly afraid of being treated badly and hurt by these guys. 

He let Skwisgaar fuck him, totally giving up, finally feeling the blond go over the edge inside him, filling him up like Nathan had already. The warm fingers in his mouth vacated after a couple moments, wet with desperation. Pickles heard the two laugh, “Fuckings nasty,” Skwisgaar mumbled while he watched Nathan wipe his fingers off on the bed sheets below. 

In a blur, the blond had pulled out and got his pants up already, pushing Pickles’ helpless legs away from him now. There was an unspoken agreement between the two and they headed for the door. “Be good,” Nathan called back, “or else.” He said devilishly before leaving and locking the door securely. 

Pickles just laid there for a couple moments, coming to terms with what was going on and how much his body hurt. He rolled over on his side, grabbing the thick sheets and curling up under them, trying his best to fight tears. At that moment, he remembered that he had weed. What better remedy for physical and emotional pain than weed? He figured Nathan probably had beer up here too and with that a flame was rekindled inside him. The only problem was his hands were still tied behind his back. The redhead sat up and ignored the pain from moving, focusing on trying to slip his arms out. The material felt soft and silky and he slipped his arms out easily, stretching them experimentally. He sat on the bed for a couple moments before painfully trying to stand, his hips aching endlessly. Pickles resisted the pain and made his way to Nathan’s closet, digging through it for a little bit before finding a nice black sweatshirt with light material. He smiled with satisfaction and slipped it on, feeling more than comfortable despite previous events. 

Pickles grabbed his bag off the floor and retrieved his bowl and the weed he took from William, along with a lighter that he usually kept in that bag in particular. He sat on the bed, his back against the wall and blanket covering the parts of his legs the sweatshirt didn’t cover. The redhead opened the weed baggy and took some out, packing his bowl and lighting it up, taking a small experimental hit. It was good weed, he decided. He struggled to keep what just happened off of his mind, focusing on the weed instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what thefuk is a skwihsar


	4. Slave part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> continuation of chapter three mostly bc as a whole it would be really long. still kinda rapey/forceful but not much actual sex kinda stuff and yanno enjoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i still feel terrible for writing this i hope it at least makes you guys happy

Pickles smoked until he heard Nathan and Skwisgaar come through the front door, laughing and joking around about something unheard. Pickles struggled to finish off the last of what he had in his bowl, shoving it in the big middle pocket on the front of Nathan’s sweatshirt and putting the rest of the weed back in his bag. 

Pickles’ chest felt tight as he heard the two males walked up the stairs, rustling what sounded like a large plastic bag. He hurried and laid down, tossing the blanket over his head as well as his body. 

The door swung open and Nathan strut in, Skwisgaar behind him with, as Pickles predicted, a big black bag full of unknown items. They either didn’t notice the strong smoky smell or they didn’t care. The raven haired male leaned down and lifted the blanket off of Pickles’ face and shoulders, grinning slyly at the sight of the smaller male in his sweatshirt. “How’d you get your arms out?” He asked Pickles like he was a little kid that did something bad. 

The redhead looking up at him, biting his pink lips nervously. “It jus’ … slipped off.” Pickles whispered submissively, wanting to avoid anything that would ruin his high. 

“Whatever, well… we got you some stuff.” Nathan said with a devious chuckle, his hands slipping under the covers to feel if his captive had anything else on. 

Skwisgaar dug through the bag with that annoying smirk, pulling out a wide but fairly thin box, and other oddly colored boxes. 

“Have any piercings?” Nathan asked with a deep, gentle voice as he sat by Pickles on the bed, his large hand caressing his slave’s thigh. 

The redhead smiled and stuck his tongue out, revealing his pierced tongue and the silver ball in the middle. 

Nathan’s eyes widened a bit with excitement. “So cute…” He mumbled, “how did I never notice…” His other hand came up, stroking his soft freckled cheek. Pickles smaller hands laid gently on Nathan’s, moving in a way that showed his submission.

Skwisgaar pulled more stuff out of the bag, bondage and toys that scared Pickles with just the sight. “Dats goings to be goods for, eh, blowjobs.” The Swede commented, watching the two on the bed. 

“Fuck off,” Pickles snarled boldly, feeling a sense of comfort and safety near Nathan, which was far from the truth. 

The raven haired man growled, his grip on Pickles’ thigh tightening significantly. “Don’t fucking talk like that, slut.” He commanded with a deep, intimidating voice. 

The redhead shrunk back and stared up at Nathan like he just betrayed him on a whole other level. Nathan stared back at him with an ominous look, his emerald eyes half lidded and glaring.

Skwisgaar just laughed and pretty much emptied the contents of the bag Pickles was too scared to look at. “Dis ams goings to be fun.” The blond said fondly, grabbing a black leather collar with a silver ring and walking over to the bed. He handed the collar to Nathan who leaned down and put it on Pickles, being gentle with his abused throat. 

“God… you look so fucking cute.” The larger man said huskily, his hands lingering to feel Pickles’ pretty neck and the marks of ownership that Nathan gave him. The redhead purred from his touch, leaning into it fondly, like a cat. 

The blond male got on the bed, slowly getting on top of Pickles. “Ams yous going to acts like dat for me?” He asked, taunting him. 

Pickles grit his teeth and growled at the Swede, resisting the urge to punch him in the face. “I said fuck off, cunt.” The young punk shot back, for some reason not expecting Nathan to do anything, which, again, was far from the truth.

Nathan grabbed Pickles by the collar, yanking him up to eye level and slamming his powerful fist into his captive’s face. Blood spurted almost immediately from the young punk’s nose, dripping generously down and between his lips. Nathan had caught him totally off guard, leaving him lying limply on the bed for a few moments before he regained consciousness. Pickles wiped the blood from his nose with the sleeve of the sweatshirt, straining to keep tears contained from the pain.

The raven haired man just stared at Pickles with lust and desire overflowing his eyes. “Stay still,” he commanded, his emerald eyes looking him up and down, admiring the contrast between innocent pink lips and crimson red blood. And to think he caused it, caused the flowing blood, the fear and pain contorting his face, it made his heart swell with anticipation and hunger.

“Fuck you!” Pickles yelled, gritting his teeth with renewed anger, already tired of trying to suck up to Nathan to properly enjoy his high. “Go fucking fuck yerself!” He hissed, clenching his fist. 

Nathan didn’t do anything, just watched as Skwisgaar dug out a leather whip, winking at Nathan. “He needs to be taughts a lessons.” The Swede said suggestively and Nathan more than got the hint. He grabbed handcuffs off the floor where Skwisgaar had set them out and made his way ominously towards Pickles who trembled and panicked. 

The larger teen grabbed the redhead roughly, twisting his arms behind his back and cuffing him tightly. Pickles winced and struggled, dreading damn rich kids more than ever. Fuck them and all their money to buy this sick shit, he thought frantically, breathing heavily. Nathan forced him down on the bed, the metal of the cuffs digging painfully into his wrists as he was forced to lay on them. 

Skwisgaar aided in tearing the blanket off of Pickles’ legs, holding the whip ready for Nathan. He lifted the sweatshirt to expose the redhead’s upper thighs and hips, his rough hands feeling the smaller man’s hips and abused pussy, rubbing his clit briefly before replacing his hand with the cool leather of the whip, rubbing Pickles slowly with it. 

The Swede kept their slaves pretty thighs spread while Nathan teased and taunted him with the whip before cracking it down on the redhead’s inner thigh. He whimpered and his body jerked painfully, gritting his teeth. The raven haired man grinned with satisfaction, whipping closer to his genitals this time. 

Pickles cried out in pain, pleading for remorse. “I-- I’ll be good--! Please!” He begged, staring at Nathan with wide eyes.

Nathan froze and gazed back at him. “Fuckin’ pussy.” He chuckled, seemingly like he would stop. But he didn’t, cracking the whip one last time on the redhead’s other thigh, making him gasp and exhaled hard, trying to hold in a scream of pain. “I… was going to save this for another time, but you’ve been a little bitch enough already.” Nathan said gruffly, picking up the slim box that Skwisgaar had got out previously. He opened it, revealing a few piercing needles and small gauge captive rings. 

The redhead’s eyes widened and his body trembled, struggling instinctively against Skwisgaar and the handcuffs. “N-no, Nate, please… I can’t.” He said quietly, almost inaudible. 

Nathan ignored him and wiped the needle carefully. Skwisgaar gagged the young punk once again, holding him back against his chest. The raven haired male got between Pickles legs, “The more you struggle the more it’ll hurt.” Nathan warned, rubbing his slave’s clit tenderly. 

Tears already welled up in Pickles eyes and he squeezed them shut, biting down hard on the cloth gag already. His body was shaking like a scared animal.

Nathan leaned down with the needle, positioning it horizontally. Without warning, he thrust it through his slave’s clit, the sharp end hitting a firm pad on the other side. Pickles head jerked back and he whimpered painfully against the gag in his mouth. Skwisgaar watched with fascination. 

Blood seeped out of the wound, dripping down between Pickles’ legs, leaving a tingling trail of warmth. Being really high helped mostly with the pain, his mind focusing on other insignificant things as he felt the sting of cleaning alcohol followed by the captive ring replacing the needle. Nathan smiled a little at his success, mentally patting himself on the back for following the instructions correctly. He wiped the blood gently, taking into account how sore he must’ve been down there, and discarded his used tools and what not. Skwisgaar dropped the redhead down on the bed again, sitting on the edge of it to admire Nathan’s work and how cute their little slave looked in pain. 

Pickles curled up on the bed, silent tears running down his cheeks. This was all so humiliating, he just felt like dying. His eyes opened once again when he felt Nathan stuff something in the pocket of the sweatshirt, looking up at him first and then down at the pocket. “Are you ready to be good now?” Nathan asked, looking down at him fondly. Pickles nodded with submission, sniffling a little bit.

The teen leaned down and turned Pickles over, unlocking the handcuffs and discarding them elsewhere. The young punk rubbed his bruised and red wrists gingerly before digging around in the pocket, avoiding the bowl he shoved in there earlier. His fingers brushed over a firm round shape, feeling a rubber band around it and the paper edge opposite of the round side. He tugged it out, his body tensing at the site of what looked like a lot of money. The redhead looked up at Nathan to see he and Skwisgaar both had left the room. He sat up painfully and shoved the money back in his pocket, looking around to find his clothes tossed in the corner near the bed.

Pickles sighed and got up, trying his best to ignore the pain as he took the sweatshirt off briefly to put his chest binder on underneath. He struggled to get his tight ripped up jeans on, being careful to not bother the piercing between his legs too much. The horror of it all finally hit him and his body tensed. What the fuck would Magnus say? He probably blew up his phone by now with how obsessive he was. Pickles grit his teeth and grabbed his phone from his bag, clicking it on and scrolling through the few messages he got. One from William and maybe two from Magnus. He unlocked his phone and looked at the one from William.

_Ur gay old boyfriend came by a little bit ago and wants 2 kno where u are,_ it read. Pickles heart dropped. He tapped out and into his and Magnus’s texts.

_I hope you’re having a good time at Williams. :),_ he read the first message, frantically skipping to the second: _don’t stay out late._

The messages were so flat and yet so intimidating. Pickles gulped and clicked his phone off after checking the time; 6 PM. He stood up slowly, grabbing the rest of his shit and walking out of the bedroom with little confidence. The walk home was going to be agonizing and he couldn’t ask Magnus to pick him up. If the older man knew he was anywhere near these rich bastards he would beat his ass to hell and back. 

Pickles didn’t see Nathan or Skwisgaar the entire way from the staircase to the door and it kind of freaked him out. He opened the front door easily and started making his way away from the dreaded house. Thinking back on the events that transpired… it all felt so unreal. Like it was a dream and when he woke up the next morning it would all be over. He tried not to think about it as he walked home, trying hard to focus on the fading high he had achieved earlier.

His efforts were generally a success and he made it home through the back door without much trouble. Pickles shed the collar and stuffed it in his bag, scrunching his shoulders in an attempt to hide all the marks on his neck as he walked nervously into his and Magnus’ bedroom. 

The older man was laying on the right side of the bed, a book in his hands and reading glasses on his face. Pickles silently walked to the room’s bathroom, feeling Magnus’s eyes on him the whole way. He locked the door once inside and sat exhaustedly on the floor. Pickles sighed and ran his fingers through his soft red hair. He wondered how he would cover the marks on his neck and on the rest of his body, feeling hopeless. There was no way to cover all over them, and what would he even do about the sore piercing between his legs? His body trembled at the thought of how mad Magnus would be. He just hoped that he wouldn’t get it too bad.

Pickles stood up and looked in the mirror, cleaning what was left of his eyeliner off his face, sighing at his reflection. He slipped his pants off uncomfortably, gritting his teeth as he reached down and felt the piercing between his legs gingerly, shuddering at the feel of the warm metal ring and ball. He pulled the sweatshirt down over his hips and upper thigh, sighing at the warm and comforting feeling of the fabric.

There was something about Nathan, how shy and gentle he was when he wasn’t abusing him, that made Pickles’ heart do flips. He wondered if he would turn out to be like Magnus, bipolar and regularly abusive. What Nathan had already done to him didn’t even feel real, like it was something that actually happened. He felt like it was some sick thought that he himself had dreamt. Shivers ran down his spine as he thought about it and the intimacy between him and Nathan. Pickles forced the thought out of his mind and sat down again on the bathroom floor, against the wall, taking out his phone and texting William.

_u can have the rest of ur fuckin weed back i only smoked a little bit,_ he typed and sent it, his hands feeling cold and vacant. _I’ll come by tomorrow man dont be jackin off when i get there lmao_

He clicked his phone off and shoved it in the sweatshirt pocket, his fingers brushing against the wad of cash in there. Maybe it was Nathan’s money that he liked, instead of the actual teen himself. Whichever it was, he didn’t care to think about it right now. Pickles took his bowl out of his pocket and stuffed it in his bag, doing the same with the wad of money. He thought hard, thinking of a place he could hide the bag. If Magnus got his hands on all that money, he’d probably binge on heroin and overdose and die, and Pickles definitely didn’t like the thought of that. He thought about it for a minute and decided to just put the whole bag under the bed. 

Pickles stood up slowly and slipped off his chest binder from underneath the sweatshirt before grabbing his bag and shoving it in, holding it behind his back. He opened the bathroom door slowly to find Magnus had gone elsewhere. The redhead hurried to his side of the bed and stuffed the bag underneath before getting on the bed and under the covers. 

The sweet strum of Magnus’s guitar resonated softly throughout the house and helped Pickles’ body relax now, sinking into the pillows and sheets. His eyes closed slowly and he focused on the smooth sound of Magnus’s guitar, dozing off slowly, despite how early it was.

Pickles seemed to lose track of time and soon felt his older lover getting in bed next to him, wrapping his strong arms around him and pulling him close against his warm body. The redhead cuddled close to Magnus, keeping his eyes closed. His smaller hands curled against the older man’s chest. He felt so warm and loved, slipping into a painless and enjoyable sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont 4get kudos & comments!!! rlly makes my day :-)


	5. High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nathan goes to therapy, Magnus n Pickles get high

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this ones a longer one because I'm gonna take a smol break from this and start another work. idk when ill upload again but probably within the week if the first chapter of the other one doesnt take too long. enjoy!!!!!!

Nathan had gotten up early today, woke by a call from the therapist his parents had hired for him, reminding him of his appointment in less than 30 minutes. The man’s name was Charles Offdenson and he was a very professional and formal person. He never broke that character ever in front of Nathan and it made the teen slightly uncomfortable-- no, more like uneasy. The therapist was open to talking about anything and never locked up or got awkward with a subject, however inappropriate it proved to be. Today, however, Nathan planned to talk about what he did to Pickles, mostly in detail. Although being a generally quiet and kept to himself type of person, Nathan was comfortable talking to Charles about anything because his parents had paid him lots of money to keep quiet even about illegal things. Charles wasn’t one to betray his job, which was devoted to Nathan and helping him get better. 

The teen rolled out of bed sluggishly, getting his usual black sleeveless shirt and dark colored pants on, later with black boots. Nathan walked down to his kitchen, grabbing a half drank beer from the night before. He thought briefly about Pickles, scenes of the redhead being fucked hard popping into his head. He sighed softly and sipped the shitty beer, leaning against the granite counter in his kitchen. Nathan couldn’t help but remember the fear on Pickles face as he was abused, the way he sounded, moaning and begging for remorse. The vivid memory slipped away as he finished the can of beer, tossing it in the garbage and now getting his big black boots on. 

Nathan continued out of his house, not caring enough to lock it as he made his way down the street and to the counseling office where Charles waited for him. Once inside, he took a seat in the older man’s office, looking down at the floor almost apprehensively. 

“Nathan, good of you to come.” Charles said and pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. The teen didn’t respond and Charles continued. “How was your week? Did anything exciting happen?” He asked, his voice bland and almost sarcastically enthusiastic, like he was faking being interested. Nathan knew he was interested, though. He had to be. 

The teen nodded slowly. “It was, uhm, it was okay. Something did happen, though.” Nathan began, his hand unconsciously moving to rub the back of his neck as he looked at the ground. 

Charles tilted his chin up slightly. “You know you can tell me anything.” He said, playing at reassurance, but coming off as suspicious. 

“Well… I did something bad.” He started, folding his hands in front of him on his lap. Nathan didn’t truly believe his actions were bad ones. “Y’know, uh, that guy I always talk about? Well, I found out his name is Pickles and he came to my house like, two nights ago.” Nathan said, his voice beginning to waver slightly. 

“How did that happen?” Charles shot back almost instantly.

Nathan strained to remember what Pickles was saying when he returned the clothes. “Uh… He got drunk… or something, and got kicked out of some old guy’s bar--” He stopped himself, remembering that the old guy was Pickles’ boyfriend. “His boyfriend, I mean. His boyfriend is some mean old guy that owns a bar.” He said, gritting his teeth for a moment. Charles encouraged him to continue. “So, uh, yeah… he got kicked out and came all the way to my house and like… we met and stuff… then he left.” Nathan said, his mind urging him to get to the point, wanting so badly to relive what he had done. He made a mental note to take pictures next time.

His therapist jotted a few things down on the paper in his clipboard. “And what’s bad about that, Nathan?” Charles inquired, his head tilted to the side to further express his curiosity.

“Well…” Nathan was hesitant, “He came back yesterday and I had Skwisgaar over and uh, we had a plan for him.” The teen took a deep breath before continuing. “I brought him up to my room and kept him there until Skwisgaar came up and we both fucked him.” Nathan said blatantly, too nervous to meet his counselor’s gaze. “And uh… it wasn’t like, consensual either. I fucked him first and then Skwisgaar did. Then we went to the mall and got some stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” Charles prodded, wanting to know all the details. 

The teen bit his lip. “Like uh… y’know… dildos and stuff. And we got a piercing kit too. Pickles has a tongue piercing. I never knew until he showed me.” He rambled, his mind focusing on the redhead’s pretty lips, how soft and deliciously pink and perfect they were. 

Offdenson snapped him out of his thoughts. “Did you pierce him somewhere?” He asked calmly, not visibly disgusted so far. 

“Yeah, we did. We pierced his uh… y’know.” As with most of the boys his age, he was generally intimidated by using terms relating to vaginas. Charles got it though, knowing about Pickles being trans. “Before that, though, I punched him in the face for being a little bitch. He’s really sassy, sometimes. His nose started bleeding and like… it was so hot.” Nathan said, trailing off as he went on.

Charles left the piercing topic alone and focused on Nathan’s fascination with gore and blood, however insignificant a nosebleed proved to be. “What about it was so hot to you?”

The teen looked down for a moment. “Uh… like… seeing him in pain and the blood and stuff…” He said, half embarrassed. “Knowing that I caused that… and that he was afraid of me.” Nathan finished, his chest tightening. 

The therapist scribbled some things unknown to Nathan down on his clipboard. “Is that how you like seeing your sexual partners?” He dug further, adjusting his glasses. 

Nathan nodded slowly. “Not just that, uh, I mean… I wanna see him like… bloody and mutilated beneath me. He’s so cute.” He said softly, trailing off a little bit again. “He looks so good with blood on his face…” Nathan said, growling slightly. 

“Why do you like seeing them like that? Does it make you feel powerful?” Charles asked calmly, staring at Nathan and his body language at this point. 

The raven haired male shrugged and glanced at Charles. “I guess. I just like seeing him scared and submissive… y’know.” Nathan said frantically, his thoughts jumbled.

Charles nodded. “How about you work it out with him so it becomes consensual? You can still have that sense of power and dominance even with it being consensual. That way he won’t be traumatized and afraid of you in every other context.” 

Nathan rolled his eyes. “But I want him to be afraid in every other, uh, context.” He said awkwardly, his fists clenching beside him. “I want him to be like… My own personal slave.”

\---

Pickles woke up at about 11 AM, his body sore and aching all over. He sighed with exhaustion, despite just waking up from a long sleep, and lifted his head, only to find that Magnus was still asleep. His arms were wrapped tightly around him, their bodies pressed lovingly together. He pursed his lips and considered waking his boyfriend, generally worried that he would be mad and cranky like he usually was when he was woken up. The redhead didn’t care at this point, his mind fogged with pain and sleepiness. 

He slowly removed Magnus’s arms from around his waist and sat up, his right hand going down to rub his lover’s chest. “Magnus… wake up, dood.” Pickles said gently, shaking him a little. He watched as Magnus’s dark chocolate eyes opened slowly, his breathing getting a bit heavier. Their eyes locked and the older man couldn’t help but crack a small smile. 

Magnus wrapped an arm around his young boyfriend’s waist and tugged him down further, kissing his cheek and neck. “What time is it, babe?” He murmured with a gentle voice.

Pickles glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “11:20… ‘r somethin’.” He replied, lying back down next to Magnus, his small hand tracing imaginary shapes on his chest. 

The older man nodded and sighed freely, his eyes closing once again. “Wanna do something fun today? I got something while you were out with William yesterday.” 

The redhead’s heart dropped at those words and his chest felt tight. He knew that Magnus knew he wasn’t actually with William. “What did you get?” He asked, trying to stay cool, straining not to stutter. 

He didn’t respond, instead leaning over and opening the nightstand drawer. Pickles heart raced as he watched him dig through it. 

Magnus finally pulled out a small plastic baggy full of cocaine and Pickles felt a weight lifted off his shoulders. Just what he needed, more distraction from the pain. The redhead loved cocaine, it was probably one of his favorite drugs to use and this shit looked so pure. It was usually expensive to get stuff that looked this good, and his tolerance had gotten pretty high, so he usually spent his money on beer or weed. 

The redhead’s soft lips spread into a wide and excited smile. “Ya know me so well, man.” He said, sitting up and curling his arms around his boyfriend’s chest, rubbing the side of his face against him. 

“Before this, though, you have to tell me where you really went last night.” Magnus shot back, setting the bag elsewhere out of Pickles’ reach.

The younger male’s body froze and he gulped. “What… what do ya mean?” He asked, obviously playing dumb now. 

Magnus grunted with annoyance and shoved Pickles down on the bed. “Don’t act like you don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about.” He said sharply, staring down at him menacingly. 

Pickles looked elsewhere and grit his teeth nervously. “I… okay, I wasn’t wit William.” He admitted, his eyes meeting Magnus’s, pleading and begging. “I jus’ went out an’ got some weed an’ then I went to Tony. I- I know ya don’ like him at all so I didn’t tell ya…” He lied, backing away slowly until his back hit the headboard of the bed.

“Is that where you got the sweatshirt?” Magnus asked, still with suspicion as he got closer to Pickles, grabbing the blanket as if he was going to tear them off. 

The redhead instantly regretted abandoning his pants and he clenched the sheets tightly, bringing them up over his chest. He nodded submissively, staring back at his irritated lover. 

The older man growled lowly, his other hand brushing locks of hair behind his back. “Did he fuck you while you were there? Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you were acting when you came home.” He hissed, grabbing Pickles’s wrists from the blankets and holding them tightly. "And these," Magnus gestured towards the hickeys and marks on his boyfriend's neck. 

Pickles’ heart hammered in his chest and he trembled beneath Magnus. “N-no… it was jus’ from like… when _we_ had sex, yanno? Yer so rough…” He mumbled with fear, watching as his lover cooled down a little bit, feeling as that was a good enough excuse, even for the hickeys.

The grip on his wrists loosened and Magnus leaned in to kiss his abused neck. “How do you feel now?” He asked, his voice gentle and tender now. 

The redhead shrugged. “Still kinda sore, not much though.” He lied, hoping to whatever god existed that he wouldn’t have to be fucked tonight too. He hoped, humorously, that Magnus would prove how much he had aged and not want to have sex tonight when they just fucked not that long ago. 

Magnus nodded and laid his head against Pickles’ chest, feeling glad he didn’t bind when he went to bed. It always bothered Magnus, the things his young partner would do to feel more comfortable in his body, like binding and taking hormones. Not that he hadn’t come to terms with being gay, he just wasn’t used to it, and liked seeing Pickles as natural as he could get, without anything done to him. Even with those feelings, he wanted the redhead to be comfortable and happy with him, so he tolerated it as best he could. 

Pickles sunk into the sheets and pillows, slowly running his fingers through his boyfriend’s long brown locks, unconsciously hoping that he wouldn’t get touchy. Mostly because he wasn’t wearing pants and Magnus could easily find his new piercing, and that would surely be the death of him. Thinking about it now, despite how painful it was, Pickles didn’t regret the piercing. He thought piercings like that were hot, but to have gotten it another way would have been much better. He rolled the ball of his tongue piercing between his teeth fondly for a moment, thinking about getting pierced other places. 

“Magnus,” He started, getting the man’s attention. “Would ya let me get pierced again?” Pickles asked anxiously. He already had two in each ear, one set being small gauges, a tongue piercing, and now a genital piercing, which might’ve been the limit for Magnus. 

The older man didn’t look up, nuzzling the redhead’s clothed breasts. “Maybe. Where this time?” He asked, looking up at Pickles slowly. 

The young punk shrugged, “I don’ know… I kinda wanna get my septum done, but ya can have a say in it too, I guess.” 

“I know I can.” The older male said blankly, his left hand snaking under Pickles’ sweatshirt, caressing the soft skin underneath. Magnus squeezed his breast. “What about these?” He asked with a tantalizing voice, brushing his calloused thumb over the redhead’s pink nipples. 

Pickles tried not to tremble at the feeling of Magnus’s hand under his sweatshirt, afraid that by some chance he would feel something was off and find his newer piercing. “Y- yeah… If ya want…” He responded, shivering a little. The young punk generally liked the feeling of being pierced, just not when it was forced, like what Nathan had done. 

Magnus smiled with satisfaction. “When do you want to?” He asked, his hand slipping down to rest on the redhead’s hip.

Pickles shrugged and tried to stay more calm. “I don’ know, whenever we can, I guess.” The good thing about getting shit pierced was that Tony and his buddies worked at the parlor, and if Magnus thought Tony hadn’t seen every inch of Pickles’ body by now, he really would be fooling himself. 

“In a few days, probably. I’ll have to be there, though.” Magnus said sternly, relaxing once again against the younger male’s chest. “To make sure that kid doesn’t do anything questionable.” He finished, closing his eyes. 

Pickles nodded. “I get it, I get it,” He teased, chuckling a little. “So… when do ya wanna get fucked up?” He asked, his voice lowering as he referred to the cocaine. 

Magnus grunted in response, wrapping his arms around Pickles and hugging him closer. “Just wait,” he said, laying still for a few seconds. Finally, he sat up and grabbed the baggy, dropping it in Pickles’ lap before getting off the bed completely. “I’ll get the other shit.” Magnus said and left the room. 

The redhead yawned and stretched his arms and legs experimentally, setting the baggy on the bed. He reached down beneath the blankets, running his fingers against the shiny metal ring between his legs. He shivered and grit his teeth, still being sore down there. Pickles got out of the bed and walked to the closet that they shared. The left side was Pickles’ clothes, the right Magnus’s. He went through both sides, trying to find something comfortable to snort shit in. He ended up taking a dark colored button up and sweatpants that were too big for him to the bathroom with him, both being Magnus’s clothes.

Pickles locked the door behind him and opened the medicine cabinet, taking out a small bottle that he used to clean his other piercings, figuring it would be okay for his new one as well. He sat on the floor, a small towel nearby as he slowly removed the captive ring, dabbing the liquid onto his pierced flesh. He grit his teeth while he did it, happy for it to be over after a couple moments. The redhead cleaned the ring off too before putting it back in and standing up slowly. Pickles sighed with relief and began to change into the button up and sweatpants, discarding the sweatshirt in the laundry basket that sat in the corner of the bathroom. He didn't bother to bind today, figuring he was just gonna get high and not feel dysphoric anyway. He felt so much better with pants on, which was rare for him. It made it harder for Magnus to find all the other marks, besides the ones on his neck, which he knew he’d get more shit for once his boyfriend was fully awake. 

He walked out of the bathroom to find said boyfriend with one of those breakfast-in-bed type of trays, with the legs that could be flipped down as if it were a mini table. On the tray was a razor blade and the baggy full of coke. 

Magnus glanced at him from behind a curtain of soft brown hair as he leaned over the tray, dumping a little bit of the contents out on it. “Why did you change?” He asked, half irritated already.

Pickles shrugged. “I was cold, an’ I like wearin’ yer clothes.” He said fondly, sitting on the bed behind the older male, his small hands slithering around to feel Magnus’s lightly muscled chest.

The older male didn’t respond, dividing the coke he had poured out into four lines, and pulling a crisp bill out of his pocket and rolling it up neatly. Magnus did the first line, fast and clean. He tilted his head back a little bit and sighed with relief. 

The redhead got on the other side of the tray-table after his boyfriend passed him the poor bill, doing the second line with enthusiasm, happy to be snorting shit again. His nose started to drip blood, mostly because of the blow he had taken the day before and how sensitive it was now. Pickles wiped it with his sleeve like it was nothing.

They just kept taking turns like that until half the bag was gone and they were both high as fuck, barely able to make a new line. Magnus got off the bed and walked to the kitchen with Pickles following close behind, grabbing a beer for both of them and cracking them open. Magnus drank his beer slowly, enjoying the high. He felt better than usual, as expected.

Pickles downed half his bottle in one gulp, and then the other half like it was something that he did every day. He dropped the bottle on the floor and got close to Magnus, leaning against his chest, his hands all over the older man. Meanwhile, Magnus pretty much ignored him as he drank his beer, walking away and back to their bedroom with the young punk following desperately behind him. 

The brown haired male removed the tray-table and laid back on the bed, sipping his beer and watching his cute boyfriend. Drugs usually made him like this, calm and tolerant, just wanting to enjoy a stress free high. Versus what drugs did to Pickles, making him feel excited and active and quick to complain when he didn’t get what he wanted. 

The redhead got on top of Magnus, straddling his hips and feeling his chest. “Gimme yer beer, dood,” He pleaded, his other hand reaching for it. 

Magnus just moved the bottle further away from him. He liked teasing Pickles like this, it was so cute. “What’s in it for me, sweetheart?” He asked with a low purr, the hand not holding the beer going to rest on the younger male’s hip.

Pickles whined with annoyance, his small hands reaching up and unbuttoning a couple buttons on his own shirt suggestively. 

“Keep going.” Magnus encouraged him, sipping the beer tantalizingly. He watched as his young boyfriend unbuttoned the rest of the buttons, opening the shirt a little bit, but not enough to show anything. 

“I won’ do anythin’ else until I get beer.” The redhead said stubbornly, pushing the older man’s hand away from his hip. 

Magnus sighed defeatedly and gave in, handing Pickles the beer and watching him as he downed more than half of it in a couple seconds. The redhead smiled crookedly and opened his shirt a little bit more, moving his body sensually. Another good thing about being high was Pickles felt little discomfort with his body versus being sober and experiencing intense dysphoria. 

The younger male’s hands ran down Magnus’s chest. “Do whatever ya want to me, ol’ man.” He said seductively, feeling the older man’s hands all over his chest and waist as he chugged the rest of the beer. Pickles tossed the bottle elsewhere, not really caring if it broke or not.

Magnus tugged the young punk down beside him, feeling all over his body like it was sacred. He loved how young and pretty Pickles was, with his soft and freckled porcelain skin and thin yet child-like body, Magnus could probably get off to sick thought of his boyfriend being even younger than 18. Everything about the street punk was small and cute to the point where almost nobody believed him when he said he was 18. Just thinking about Pickles being so young got him hard.

Pickles moaned and bit his lip cutely, feeling Magnus’s hand slide down his stomach and slip into his pants. Being disorientated, he didn’t have time to even think about the piercing and how Magnus would react. The older man seemed slightly confused when he felt the sleek metal, but quickly caught on, gently rubbing his lover’s clit. The redhead groaned and pushed against his hand despite the soreness of the piercing. 

“When did you get this?” Magnus asked cooly, tugging the ring gently, making Pickles’ body tense and his lips part painfully. 

The young punk’s breathing began to get heavier. “Uhh-- I don’ know… yesterday, I think.” He said, his left hand coming down to push on the bigger one in his pants, begging for stimulation. 

Magnus gave a rare chuckle and shook his head, tucking locks of hair behind his ear. “You’re so fuckin’ trashy. It’s cute.” He said with an amused smile, the smaller man beneath him whining impatiently.

“Whatever, whatever, jus’... touch me already.” Pickles pleaded, lifting his hips up against the older man’s hand. Magnus obliged and rubbed his lover’s little pussy slowly, his fingers teasing his hole. The redhead moaned and grit his teeth, the pleasure overcoming the soreness. 

The two continued for a while like that, never actually having sex, more of just grinding on each other and being close to each other, no matter how bad each of them wanted it. Meanwhile, Nathan and his therapist worked out a new plan that didn’t involve rape and torture, despite Nathan’s complaining. The teen sat at home now, a can of beer in his hand and a pencil in the other, remembering what little he had done and writing down what other things he wanted to do, trying desperately to form them into lyrics. He recited the lyrics under his breath in a deep, rugged voice, trying them out and seeing if they would fit. He stopped for a moment, focusing on the song he was listening to; some Cattle Decapitation song from their 2006 release “Karma.Bloody.Karma”. Nathan tapped the corner of his beer can against the desk to the beat for a few seconds before looking down at his own gory lyrics for a moment. He couldn’t wait to totally disregard everything Charles told him and fuck Pickles up again. It’s not like he’d get any jail time, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel less shitty abt this one but yanno  
> also sorry it kinda ended rlly abruptly and its kinda choppy at the end, i think.
> 
> comments & kudos are very much appreciated :-)

**Author's Note:**

> save me


End file.
